Quotes About Desolation

Hace calor aquí- dije. -Si, y esto no es nada- me contestó el otro. Cálmese. Ya lo sentirá más fuerte cuando lleguemos a Comala. Aquello está sobre las brasas de la tierra, en la mera boca del infierno. Con decirle que muchos de los que allí se mueren, al llegar al infierno regresan por su cobija.

Without you, I am an empty place where spiders crawl and nothing takes root.

Going up the path she felt that she was crying silently inside, drowning in desolate unshed tears.

After the leaves have fallen, we return To a plain sense of things.... It is difficult even to choose the adjective For this blank cold, this sadness without cause...

The salt hung on his spirit like a frost, The dead brine melted in him like a dew Of winter, until nothing of himself Remained, except some starker, barer self In a starker, barer world, in which the sun Was not the sun because it never shone With bland complaisance...

Across the intersection he could see the crumbling blue-green facade of the Palace Amusements building, the grinning ten-foot-high face on its north wall smiling out on empty streets and vacant lots. The arcade entrances were covered with plywood; broken neon tubing hung from the walls. He thought of the hours he had spent there as a kid, playing pinball, firing the real .22s in the shooting gallery, riding the bumper cars. It hurt to look at it now.

As the world gathers momentum toward nihilation on all fronts --- we walk apart, each to his own lonely end . . . not hand in hand as lovers walk.

Nought but vast sorrow was there—The sweet cheat gone.

All around her was death and ruin, to which she had not been a participant but an angry witness. In a way, that was worse than dying. Even annihilation had been denied her.

Hier unten existierte dieses Riesenreich voll mit unschätzbarem Wissen, und es war in der Hand von Mördern und Banditen, wilden Tieren, Ratten und Insekten, die es besinnungslos herunterwirtschafteten, unbewohnbar machten und eines Tages endgültig zerstören würden.

He had lost the bright gods, and he had not been accepted by the dark. He was in a no soul's land, and in its isolation his own soul was withdrawn, small and heavy as a stone within him, and about his evil deed. No wonder it could not take wing and make the heralding music. That was the whole of reality now, the little stone inside, and outside the cold, dark ravine and the inescapable watcher.

This world that I live in is empty and cold; the loneliness cuts me and tortures my soul.

He's lost his colour very far from here, Poured it down shell-holes till the veins ran dry

Dark to me is the earth. Dark to me are the heavens. Where is she that I loved, the woman with eyes like stars? Desolate are the streets. Desolate is the city. A city taken by storm, where none are left but the slain.

I must be dead for there is nothing but blue snow and the furious silence of a gunshot.

and in December 1931 parts of New York looked as if God had gotten bored with the Creation business in the middle of the sixth day and simply walked off the job. Work

He did not care what happened as long as he would never be separated from the Master, for he had killed the great fox, and in this miserable, fouled land there was no longer any place for fox, hound, or human being.

Places that are empty of you are empty of life.

Sometimes, solitude is worse than hunger.

The Opera was a very cold film, a hopeless and dark film, no hope, no love.

Niente, siamo un nulla riempito di niente, amor mio.

I am sick and tired of war. Its glory is all moonshine. It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, for vengeance, for desolation. War is hell. —William Tecumseh Sherman

So it was, your majesty, that I forever relinquished my sewing, and became a lovely peril, a flashing desolation, and an evil which smites by night, in spite of my abhorrence of irregular hours: and what I do I dislike extremely, for it is a sad fate to become a vampire, and still to sympathize with your victims, and particularly with their poor mothers.

Behind me on the road through the wasteland lies the corpse of an imprisoned child.